


we're not  dating

by orphan_account



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where sayaka and kyouko are captains of rival soccer teams</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're not  dating

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at work while i was more bored than usual so it's not my best work. but enjoy anyway?

The reason they were not dating was really because Kyouko had lied.

If Kyouka had not deceived her by omission they would be kissing publicly and getting pizza together and Sayaka would give her the box of pocky sticks she’d bought with her in mind.

But Kyouko had lied and now they were kissing under the bleachers instead of on a bed and really this whole thing was Kyouko’s fault.

 

They met over a soccer ball.

That is she kicked on at Kyouko’s head on accident. She was walking home from practice, fuming over a missed shot that might have cost her the captainship. Coach wouldn’t announce for another two weeks, but everything counted and if she lost it to someone else --

Yes, she was petty enough to quit over losing the captainship.

No, that was a lie, she wouldn’t, she would tough it out bitterly.

She had the thought the last and kicked the ball down the path. She expected to have to go after it -- she did not expect having it handed back to her by a scowling red head with a piece of Pocky sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

 

Sayaka twisted her fingers around the strap of her bag. Kyouko was coming straight from practice so her face was flushed and her hair was stuck the sides of her face. She tried to make herself think, gross but mostly what she thought was oh and tried to control the feeling that the ground was coming out from under her. Kyouko grinned when she saw her and the feeling got worse.

She’s not your girlfriend. Stop it.

She was a gross, sweaty soccer player and captain of the rival team.

 

She’d snapped the end of the Pocky stick off, bounced the ball off her ankle and kicked it at her. Sayaka tried really hard not to be impressed. She could do that in her sleep. She could. But when Kyouko offered to teach her to kick like a real soccer player she’d nodded mutely and followed her onto the field.

The kissing didn’t come until a week later.

It was stupid. The sun was setting and Kyouko had managed a ridiculous kick. Her hair tie came loose and without thinking Sayaka took the end of a lock of hair. Sometime between that and being in the grass, Kyouko had kissed her. Her mouth was soft and the palms of her hands were calloused, and her hair had tickled her cheeks.

When she thought of it she flushed. With rage, she thought. In that moment she liked Kyouko fully and completely, without complication. She hadn’t had to reason away why she was kissing a rival soccer player or the ice cream they’d shared later. And she didn’t have to relive the screaming match they had on the soccer field two weeks later at their first match.

Sayaka got captain which made it worse somehow.

 

“What’s the matter with you?” Kyouko poked her cheek. “You haven’t glared at me like that in a while.”

“Don’t do that,” was really the only response she could manage.

Sayaka was not watching the way her fingers were combing through her hair, that would be ridiculous.

“It’s going to rain and I’m hungry. Pizza?”

The thing - the worst thing - was how much Sayaka liked Kyouko. And how hot she was. And how awesome the kissing was. She had to actively stop thinking about how hot she looked in her jersey, or how pretty her hair was, and there was a thing she did with her hands --

They were emphatically not dating except they spent a lot of time together. And not all of it was kissing. Some of it was kicking the ball back and forth and talking about music or texting each other about things that were not make out meet ups.

But they weren’t dating. Because it would be ridiculous to date someone you hated and didn’t trust and who didn’t mention really important things to you.

Right?

“Sayaka?”

She reached up to kiss her -- and that was another thing, she was taller -- to prove to herself how much they weren’t dating, how much this was just about the kissing. Six months later and she knew Kyouko, the feel of her mouth, the awkward slant of their heights, how her hands always started low on her hips and worked their way up.

She pulled away with a gasp, and dropped her head against her shoulder. Kyouko’s breath puffed over her ear, and she settled a hand in her hair.

“Or we could go to my place.”

 

She hadn’t been to Kyouko’s room. Ever. It was a rule.

Kyouko stood in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, a smirk on her face. She knew the rule. They had come up with it together. They’d written it down.

The system was breaking down.

Don’t make out on the bed.

Of course they made out on the bed. Kyouko’s shirt came off first. She couldn’t pull it off fast enough -- under the bleachers there were more rules like ‘don’t get arrested for public indecency’ -- couldn’t wait to press her into a mattress that was not grass, or pull the tie out of her hair. Kyouko’s body was hard against hers --  when she wasn’t playing soccer she was training for something else and Sayaka could feel in the way her muscles flexed, the way her body stretched underneath hers.

“If I pull off your shirt are you going to be angry?”

“Shut up.”

Her shirt comes off.

Kyouko pulls her down for a kiss and they don’t talk much after that.

 

“You have to start paying for my meals,”Sayaka says.

“We should split that.”

“I will buy you Pocky sticks if you pay for food.”

“We’ll draw up a contract.”

 


End file.
